Come to Jesus, Young Sinner
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Rossi and Morgan have a heart to heart discussion regarding Morgan's state of affairs. Written for the Fortune Cookie Challenge on Chit Chat. Follows "The Player", "The Illusion of Happiness" and "The Difference" Can rd stndaln


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**Come to Jesus, Young Sinner**

_**Fortune Cookie Prompt: We never know the worth of water till the well is dry.**_

David Rossi had barely refocused on the current chapter of his latest manuscript when he heard his office door slam open again. Damn it, what the hell kind of Grand Central Station had the BAU become today, he asked himself grouchily. A man couldn't get a lick of work done with all of these so-called important interruptions.

Glancing up in time to watch Derek Morgan throw his well built body into the chair in front of his desk, Dave sighed tiredly. Naturally, Garcia had wanted a piece of his proverbial hide just an hour earlier and now, Derek Morgan obviously wanted his fair share, too. Thank God that his three ex-wives had made sure his flesh now had the fortitude of rawhide.

"Derek, come in, make yourself comfortable," Dave quipped sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at the younger man slumped in his visitor's seat.

"I think I fucking hate you, Rossi," Derek stated sullenly, glaring at the elder agent through narrowed eyes.

"Lovely sentiment, Agent Morgan," Dave said wryly, lifting one eyebrow as he watched Morgan's jaw clench. "Tell me, do you talk to your mother with that mouth? Or, better yet, the esteemed Ms. Garcia?"

"You," Derek said, pointing a finger toward the other man, "never get to talk to me about my Baby Girl again," he warned, eyes narrowing.

"And why would that be?" Dave asked, his lips twitching with hidden mirth.

"Because I took your goddamn advice and told her how I felt about her," Derek growled, his fingers digging into the wooden arms of his chair, barely resisting the urge to fling the furniture across the room.

"And?" Dave prodded, once again assuming a comfortable position in his big leather office chair as he surveyed the unhappy man in front of him.

"She didn't believe me!" Derek yelped, slapping his hand against the wood in anger and disbelief.

"Well," Dave snorted, arching one brow, "What did you expect?"

Jaw dropping, Morgan stared incredulously across Dave's desk at him. "What the fuck? Aren't you the asshole that encouraged me to go after her? That told me I was a fucking moron for not seeing what was in front of my own damned nose?" Derek shouted indignantly.

"I did," Dave nodded easily. "Did I forget to mention that we never know the worth of the water until the well is dry?" he asked carelessly.

"What the...," Derek stammered, shaking his head in confusion. Eyes narrowing, Derek growled, "I swear to God, Rossi, the next time I see you with a carton of Kung Pow Chicken from Mr. Chow's, I'm gonna draw my gun and shoot you in the foot. Your fortune cookie wisdom is getting really old, man," Derek grumbled, rubbing his hand over his jaw. "Speak English!"

"Fine," Dave muttered impatiently, grimacing at the obvious lack of knowledge affecting the younger generation. "Neophyte! What I'm trying to say is that you've kept that poor woman hanging by a string for years, waiting and hoping that one day you'd wake up and see what was right in front of your face, Derek. You can't blame her for being a little distrustful of your sudden change of heart, especially when she knows that SHE'S not the one that showed you the light."

"I take it Mama's already been in here today then?" Derek asked sheepishly, his earlier anger fading as quickly as it had appeared.

"Loud and proud," Dave replied with a pointed look. "Thanks for throwing my ass under the bus, asshole. I'll remember to do you another favor sometime," he added sarcastically.

Scrubbing a hand down his face as he stood to pace the length of the older man's office, much as Dave's last visitor had, Morgan groaned, "Hell, Rossi, I've fucked up six ways to Sunday, haven't I?"

"Sit down, Morgan," Dave ordered, pointing toward the chair he'd vacated. "I think it's time for a 'come to Jesus', young sinner." Waiting until the other man grudgingly resumed his seat, Dave stared at his friend. "To answer your earlier question...yes, you fucked up."

"Thanks for the news bulletin, Rossi," Morgan grunted, tapping his heel against the floor in barely contained agitation.

"Would you just sit there, shut up, and listen for a change? Maybe if you'd done more of that at any time in the past seven years, you wouldn't be sitting here in my office looking for advice," Dave snapped.

"Sorry," Derek mumbled, dropping his head in momentary shame.

"As I was saying, yeah, you fucked up. But here's the good news, such as it is. it doesn't matter to her, you moron. She loves you. And has for probably longer than either of us knows And, love will get you a long way, Morgan, but it won't bring the ball into the end zone."

"What do you mean?" Derek asked, his ears perking up with interest as he leaned forward slightly, a sports metaphor far more to his liking that that fortune cookie crap from earlier.

"I mean that Garcia has had to watch you be you for the past several years. The womanizing, the bar crawling...all of it. She knows exactly what the skeletons in your closet are, and to a good woman, that's a scary prospect no matter how much she loves a man. Trust me," Dave admitted, his eyes meeting Derek's in silent commiseration, "if anybody has learned that lesson, it's me."

"Then what do I do, Rossi? I can't change who I've been," Derek replied sadly, his heart constricting as he realized how close he'd come to completely losing the most amazing woman in his life.

"No, you can't. But you can change what you'll be in the future. Show her, Derek. Show her the man you were meant to be for her," Rossi advised solemnly. "Woo her. Reassure her. Remind her that you loved her even before you fell in love with her. And, by God, walk the tightrope this month is bound to be without complaining. You owe her that much."

"I owe her everything, Rossi," Derek agreed quietly.

"At least you realize it," Dave nodded approvingly. "And that's definitely a step ahead of where you were a couple of days ago."

"You woke me up to what I already knew in my heart," Derek admitted softly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallow hard. "But, man, I'm terrified that I left it all too long."

"You didn't," Dave replied solidly. "The look in her eyes this morning told me so. But, she's scared, too, Derek. Scared to let herself be fooled. Scared of losing her best friend. Scared to hope because disappointment is worse than never having had the possibility at all. And I swear to God, if you hurt that woman any more, I'll..."

Shaking his head grimly as he held up a hand, Derek whispered, "My days of hurting my angel are over, Rossi. You have my word on that," Derek promised.

"Good," Dave said in approval, pleased that the younger man had seen the light more quickly than he'd anticipated...much sooner than he, himself, had seen it. "Then, I suggest you commence your campaign to win the fair lady's heart, my friend. I hear she likes sparkly things," Dave mock whispered, a grin playing on his lips.

Rising from his chair, Derek grinned, his confidence renewed. Nodding, he replied, "I can win this war, Rossi. I know I can."

"Just remember...take one battle at a time. And seriously, invest in some sparklies," Rossi called as Derek Morgan strode from his office.

Shaking his head as his office door closed again, Rossi leaned back in his chair. Ah, young love. Why the hell couldn't he have been this smart twenty years ago?

_**Finis**_


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